As Lovers Go
by Frerard Lovers
Summary: Everybody always said Sherlock wasn't capable of love, that he was too involved in himself. Well, maybe they were wrong... *JOHNLOCK SMUT*


"John!" Sherlock screamed at his companion, storming around the flat they shared in a fit of anger, "How could you be so bloody STUPID! I understand your brain is not as advanced as mine in the slightest, but to give us away like that? And I almost had him! The murderer was right in front of us, and you had to try and play the hero and take him down!"

"Sherlock, you were in danger! I couldn't let you keep going the way you were! If I hadn't stopped him, you'd most likely be lying dead! And for the last time, stop with the 'I'm smarter then you so shut the fuck up' attitude. Yes, you're extremely smart, but you're not a god. Get over yourself!" John huffed, annoyed.

"I was NOT in danger, you idiot!" Sherlock raged, voice raising a decibel higher, "The man was too much of a coward to pull anything on me, especially not with a witness! And in any case, I had your gun on me. And you may say I am not a god, but you've also called me every single fucking positive adjective in the dictionary. Must I go in my mind palace and retrieve every incidence in which you glorified me? So do NOT question intelligence you've confirmed yourself, unless you wish to admit to stupidity!"

"How can one man be so NARCISSISTIC?" John roared. "Sometimes," he seethed, "I really can't stand you. You... Yes. Okay. You're really smart. A fucking genius. Is that what you want to hear?" he asked sarcastically. "Well guess what, Sherlock? You're also SELF-CENTERED," he took a step forward, pointing at the taller man, "ARROGANT," another step, "DISRESPECTFUL," another, "and just down right SELFISH," he said. Now, Sherlock's back was up against the wall, and John was nose to nose with him, his eyes on fire.

"And you love every second of it," Sherlock growled back. Then he stooped his head, and crashed his lips against John's, bringing back the kiss just as quickly, and then continuing it. "Such,"_ kiss _"A," _kiss_ "Fucking," _kiss_ "Idiot." _kiss_ When Sherlock finally ceased attacking John's lips, he gazed down at the shorter man's face, which had a look of complete and utter confusion.

"What the hell, Sherlock!" John pushed himself away. He was so confused. He'd been with countless women. Had had sex with them. Dated them. And he'd enjoyed it, but... When Sherlock's lips were on his, he was... In heaven. It was amazing. _Stop, John. Sherlock's a man. That would make you gay. _He eyed Sherlock for a moment. _A hot man, yes, but... But who cares if you're gay? It's your business._ He was so confused.

"You're pupils are dilated John," Sherlock said, studying the other's face. He grabbed John's wrist in a quick movement, and remarked, "And your pulse is elevated. Both tell tale signs of excitement." The genius sighed and continued, "But you're struggling. And we both know which side is going to win out. There is no point in hiding yourself from me, John. I already know your animalistic instincts will take over, so why wait any longer?"

"Wh..." John stuttered and blushed. "Sherlock, where is this coming from? You've never acted like you... felt this way about me before. And then suddenly you kiss me!" He then remembered something Sherlock had said. "Wait... Animalistic? What do you mean by that? What they hell are you implying? That I want to fuck you?"

"Oh John," Sherlock sighed, "You know how I am with emotions. I feel them at times, but usually can't pinpoint them. I just recognized my feelings for you as that of a romantic nature last night during a period of meditation. And a few minutes ago, you presented an opportune time to express those feelings. And as for your desire to 'fuck' me, as you so eloquently put it, your body gave it away the moment I kissed you. There is no point in denying it, we both know that."

John scowled. "What do you mean my body 'gave it away'. I didn't do anything but push you away. And Sherlock, there's no way you could possibly feel 'romantic' feelings for me. You've never said or done anything to suggest it. Like you said, you don't have much experience with emotions, but how do you know they're actually feelings of brotherly love and not romantic?"

"God, John," Sherlock said, looking at John as if he was completely oblivious to everything around him, "First off, there was hesitation in pushing me away. If you really had not wanted me to kiss you, you would have shoved me away at first contact, not after I had already finished. That showed that you wanted it, but you're not yet ready to admit it. And as I've already pointed out if you had been listening, your pupils are dilated and your pulse is elevated.

"As for my emotions, I do not know for sure, and you know how it pains me to say that. But there was a time, a long time ago, when I felt brotherly love for Mycroft. That was a long while ago, obviously, but I still remember them. These feelings towards you are much stronger."

John stared up at Sherlock, not sure what to say. "Sherlock, I..." He didn't know if he should tell him he loved him back, because to be honest, he wasn't quite sure just yet. He'd only just realized he was gay... bi... Whatever this feeling was. He just knew he wanted Sherlock to kiss him again.

He licked his lips.

Sherlock took that minute body movement as permission to carry on, and dived once more for John's lips. He found John to be much more responsive this time, pushing back on his lips and moving in sync with him. But suddenly, it dawned upon Sherlock that this was an area he knew nothing about. Now that he was here, how was he to proceed?

"John," Sherlock whispered, pulling back, "I-I don't know how to do this..." He said it sheepishly, like a child admitting to a wrongdoing.

John looked up at the man who really was a child at heart. "You seemed to be doing a pretty good job before," he said, much gentler than the tone he was using when they were arguing. "Just kiss me again," he brushed a curl away from the detective's eyes.

Tentatively, Sherlock brought his lips back to John's, and they began moving together once more, keeping the pace slow. Nervousness was not something Sherlock was accustomed too, always being so sure of himself, and he tried to stop thinking about what he was doing and just do it, also something he was not used to. He felt John run his tongue along his bottom lip, and instinctively opened his mouth, proud to do something seemingly right.

"Mmm..." John moaned into Sherlock's mouth when their tongue's met. His hands slid up Sherlock's back and up to his head where he tangled his fingers in the curly hair. He pressed his body to Sherlock, who was now wedged between the army doctor and the wall. The detective's long coat managed surround John as well. John moaned again, encompassed in the warmth of the coat and finally Sherlock's arms as they wrapped around John's small waist. His tongue continued exploring the detective's mouth.

Sherlock was feeling things in his own body he could not explain. What were these fireworks exploding in his mind? Why was blood rushing towards his nether regions with no more stimulation than a kiss? Well, it was to be expected, as he was a virgin. He just wished he had more experience so he could offer John something for the way he was making him feel.

John groaned when he realized Sherlock had on the purple shirt of sex. "Please Sherlock..." he whimpered into his mouth, his words muffled by Sherlock's tongue.

Sherlock took this as a sign that they were wearing too much clothing. He quickly shrugged off his own jacket and swiftly unbuttoned John's shirt, revealing the bullet wound he had sustained in Afghanistan. Sherlock noticed John look away, appearing shameful, and tipped his head back up placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I think you're beautiful John," he whispered, looking into the other man's brown eyes.

John blushed. "Not as beautiful as you." Looking into Sherlock's eyes, he melted and his fingers dug into the detectives hips. "As much as I love this shirt on you," he whispered huskily," it needs to come off," he said as he stared undoing buttons. Apparently, it proved to be quite the task, so he growled at it. "Get it off," he said, frustrated. Sherlock did as instructed, and John groaned at the sight of white, soft skin stretched over muscles. Still watching Sherlock lustfully, he leaned down and drew one pert nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it.

Sherlock gasped at the shivers of pure pleasure that simple touch had sent through his entire body. He felt John start to suck relentlessly on the little nub of flesh, even going so far to nibble it gently, and he knew he had to give John something back. He reached down and unbuckled John's belt swiftly, and, reaching his hand inside his trouser's, grabbed his hardening cock.

John unattached his mouth from the nub of skin when he felt a hand on his member. "Sherlock!" he moaned. "Oh God," he leaned his forehead on Sherlock's bare chest. "Sh-Sherlock?" he began to ask, but cut off by a loud groan, which he later realized was his own.

Sherlock wiped the drops of pre-cum off the tip of John's cock with his thumb, and smeared it down his length. He slowly began to pump up and down, like the time he had masturbated as part of an experiment. He watched John slowly unravel in front of him, not wanting to miss one facial expression, one swear word, one moment of this experience.

"Sherlock!" John shivered. "Fuck..." He let Sherlock pump him for a few more moments before he remembered what he was going to ask him. "Sher...lock. Take me upstairs. Please..."

Sherlock reluctantly relinquished his grasp on John's member, just to grab his hand instead. He practically dragged them both up to John's room. Why John's room, and not his own? Sherlock did not know exactly, but he suspected it was because he was about to give up everything to the other man, and if it went badly, at least the memories wouldn't be attached to the room he slept in every night.

"Sherlock," John sighed as he wrapped his arms around the taller man's back and fell down on the bed, pulling Sherlock with him. He raked his nails up down the soft, smooth skin and angled his head up so he could suck on the soft skin where Sherlock's throat met his shoulder.

Sherlock threw his head back and let out a guttural moan. How could John make him feel like this? How did he even have the ability to feel like this? He had thought lust and love was for the weak, but now he saw the appeal of it. Now he wanted it, wanted this so badly it hurt. But he still had no idea what he was supposed do, and he didn't want to disappoint John.

John responded with a deep, gravelly voice. He'd never been so turned on, but then again he'd never been with another man. Him and Sherlock could learn together. Oh, unless... "Sherlock, have you ever been with anyone before?" He realized what that probably sounded like. "I mean a man. Have you ever been with a man. I'm sure you've _been_ with someone. I'm sure you're not a virgin..." he drifted off as thoughts of another man holding Sherlock, thrusting into him, making him scream... of Sherlock fucking the man. No, sex didn't seem like something that Sherlock would interest himself with. But then again, the man couldn't have gone this long without sex... Could he?

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise at John's question. Of course he was a virgin! Had he not made it clear that he had never felt this kind of feeling before? For God's sake, he had only masturbated once! He supposed that perhaps this kind of thing came naturally to him, and John somehow thought he must have experience.

"No John," Sherlock murmured, running kisses up and down the shorter man's neck, "You are my first, and I can't help but worry I will somehow mess up and disappoint or hurt you. Have you ever been with a man before? I think it's rather obvious you've been with women, considering your dating habits."

Needless to say John was rather surprised. Sherlock couldn't be a virgin. God he'd been doing things to John's body that only a man with experience could do. "Oh, noo, I've never been with a man," John said, biting his lip worriedly. He didn't know it, but he actually looked really sexy when he did that. Of course, having never been with a man, he didn't know _exactly_ what to do, but he knew the basics. But, being a doctor, he knew that it would hurt at first for the man who bottomed, and he instantly wondered who it would be. Sherlock, maybe since he seemed so naive and innocent at times and he'd need guiding? But then again, John liked the idea of being pounded by the long, lean man on top of him. He wouldn't mind being dominated for a change. Either way, he needed release soon, as his solid member was pressing into Sherlock's hip because of the height distance.

"Trying to figure out who should bottom and who should top?" chuckled Sherlock. When he saw John raise his eyebrows at him, he added, "Oh shut up, I did some research alright?" Then he carefully considered the matter at hand before saying quietly, "Do you think I could top? I don't think I'm quite ready to hand over that much control. It's been hard for me even getting this far, with the emotional wall and what not."

John smiled at him sweetly. "Sure," he answered and leaned back up for another kiss. He let his hand travel down Sherlock's back and around to the front where his fingers lightly grazed the hair just above Sherlock's long cock. He gripped the base and began to pump him. He leaned up a little. "We need lube," John whispered into his ear, his words nearly drowned out by Sherlock's long, deep moan that made John twitch below.

"Do you have any?" Sherlock asked, and when John shook his head, he help up his fingers to the blond's mouth and said, "Then suck." John willingly took three of Sherlock's fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, slicking them up for the task they would be performing in mere moments.

Once Sherlock felt his digits were wet enough, he withdrew them from John's mouth. He flipped the shorter man over, and slipped his hand down his back, and pressed a finger lightly against his entrance.

John moaned and pressed his ass up into Sherlock's hand. "Do it," he breathed. He felt his stomach flip in anticipation of both the discomfort he knew he'd feel and the pleasure that'd come after Sherlock founded that bundle of nerves inside of him. He gasped when Sherlock's fingers slid easily inside of him. As he'd predicted, it wasn't so much pain, but the feeling of having things going in your body that usually didn't go there; at least not for a guy like John. John who'd thought he was straight. He knew now he'd never want to be with a woman again. He'd only want men from this point on. Men with dark curly hair, who was narcissistic at times, and who were the only consulting detective in the world. He'd only want Sherlock to do these things to him.

Sherlock felt John clench gently around the single finger he had inserted, and after he had loosened a bit, started finger fucking him. John gasped at the movement, though out of pleasure or pain, Sherlock did not know. After a minute or two of this, he felt John was loose enough to add a second finger, which he slid in slowly, listening for a command to stop or signs of pain.

John shivered at the feeling of yet another finger slide into him, and again when Sherlock began scissoring. "Oh God," he panted and moved his hips, wishing Sherlock would find his prostate. He involuntarily thrust his hips. "Please..."

Sherlock understood what John wanted, and using his superior knowledge of human anatomy and a little bit of luck, changed his angle slightly. He knew he had hit what he was looking for when John drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh fuck," John shuddered. "Right there," his arms wrapped around the tall man's neck and he leaned up to suck on the skin once again, only pausing to moan every few seconds. "Now, Sherlock."

Sherlock withdrew his fingers, earning a small whimper at the loss of contact from John. He quickly lined up his cock with John's entrance, surprisingly excited for what was about to happen. He slowly slid in, trying to let John adjust. He wanted nothing more than to slam into John over and over again, that warm tunnel the best feeling he had ever experienced, but restrained himself for John's sake.

John threw his head back. "Holy fuck..." He wasn't sure if the moan he let out was of pain or pleasure - both he decided - by he needed more. He let Sherlock's heavy erection rest inside of him while he adjusted further before he realized he couldn't wait anymore. "Move," he raked his nails along Sherlock's back and moaned when the detective did so gently.

Sherlock thrust slowly, though it was hard to exercise the self control to do so. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, letting out breathy moans, just letting the feeling of being inside John overwhelm him. Why had he not done this sooner? How could he have been blind to this passion that was now overtaking him for so long?

John licked his dried lips and tried to pull Sherlock closer, causing him to go even deeper. He moaned and arched back, which caused Sherlock to change his angle and John's eyes to widen in pleasure. He knew Sherlock had found his prostate, and he couldn't help but buck his hips up to meet his thrusts. "Faster," he grunted and bit his lip.

Sherlock was all too happy to comply, picking up the pace. "Do you want me to fuck you into the mattress?" Sherlock asked in a lust filled voice, "Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck you so hard you'll have a limp again? Hmmm? Cause I will, oh my God, John, I will."

John's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He didn't know Sherlock would be like this in bed... If he had, he'd have dragged him to the bedroom a long time ago. "Yes, Sherlock. Make me scream your name!" he moaned. "Fuck me so hard I can't walk. Oh, harder..."

Sherlock let go of all restraint then, simply shoving into John as hard as he could, again and again and again, and God, did it feel so good. There was nothing in the world but John, and his warmth and tightness. Sherlock could feel a tightening in his stomach, and knew he was close. He also knew it was a little early, but hey, what could you expect from a virgin? "John," he breathed, "I'm so close..."

John was a panting, moaning mess by now and couldn't even speak. Sherlock was slamming into his prostate over and over. It took him a minute to realize that he'd spoken. "Sh-Sherlock-k." He usually lasted longer than this, but he could tell that tonight would be different. He could already feel that feeling deep in his stomach and his balls tightened in anticipation. "M-me too-o," he whimpered. "F-Fuck," he moaned.

"Want to cum together?" Sherlock asked, and seeing John's nod, wrapped a hand around the other's member and began to stroke in time to his thrusts. He could feel John's walls clenching erratically around his own cock, and knew it wouldn't be long now.

John's breath caught in his throat and his head was thrown back as he arched his body. "Oh Sherlock. I-I'm coming... I- SHERLOCK!" He came, his seed spurting on his and his lovers stomach and some even reached Sherlock's neck. "Oh..."

As he came, John's walls clenched impossibly tight around Sherlock, sending him over the edge as well. He released inside John, with a loud moan of, "Oh my God, John." He was sure that by this point Mrs. Hudson must have heard them, but he didn't even care. He pulled out of John after milking his orgasm for all it was worth, and collapsed next to his lover on the bed.

John fell limp and rolled over lazily on top of the detective, not caring that they both had cum on their bellies. He leaned up and licked the bit that was on the long, white neck of his newly found lover, not exactly enjoying the taste, but liking the feeling of it sliding down his throat. "Sherlock," he whispered and bit the man's neck.

"John," Sherlock breathed in return rolling to his side so that he and John were facing each other. He gently pecked John on the lips and said, "You know I am horrible with emotions, so I cannot be sure, but John, I think I've fallen for you."

"I love you," was all John said as he snuggled closer.

**Sherlock's POV by Casey and John's POV by Anna**


End file.
